


Buying the Pig

by Shadow_Belle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Catholic!Steve, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Belle/pseuds/Shadow_Belle
Summary: Steve proposes on their third date. Darcy's reply is a taser.This was a gift for the glorious, well-loved, amazing, and did I mention brilliant Avari20 for her birthday. She requested a Catholic!Steve who wants to get married before they "do it." And a Darcy who just doesn't understand why. Happy Birthday, Ava!





	Buying the Pig

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avari20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avari20/gifts).



 

**Buying the Pig**

_“Darcy, my dollbaby, don’t ever let a man fool you into thinking you need to buy the whole pig just to get a little sausage.”-Mira St. Cyr, Original Kansas City Kitty and Burly-Q Queen. And Darcy’s Great Gram._

 

**My Big Fat Stupid Proposal**

So maybe tasing Captain America because he proposed to me is a little extreme, but I was startled. Everyone knows not to startle me. Literally, everyone.

Okay, so I know that we’re told every little girl dreams of growing up, meeting a guy like Steve, and getting him to put a ring on it faster than she can say I do. And not to mention before you let him in your panties.

Well, times have changed. And not all little girls. Especially not this girl.

My mother didn’t listen to Great Gram (Who liked to be called Great Gams because her legs were still pretty great. She worked on them.) who had some pretty sage advice on the topic. She married the first guy she wanted to have sex with and here I am. Where is she? Still married to the biggest dick on two feet. Not counting the green guy, because he’s bigger than everyone. I maintain he’s a dick, though. Why? He’s an angry white dude who takes his rage out on the world and then wants to be held blameless when the rage is over. And maybe it’s not his fault, but seriously, get some fucking therapy.

Anyway, rewind.

Steve and I have been on exactly three dates. Three.

And he did the most awful thing on the third date.

There we were walking in Bryant Park, talking, laughing, and I was looking at his mouth, hoping that he’d kiss me. He turned to me, and it was one of those moments, you know? Even if you do know, I’m going to tell you about it anyway.

It was just like all the novels I’d read. Our eyes met, and there was this… weighted thing between us, drawing us together. My whole body was on fire. I needed him to touch me. The way he smelled, I swear to all that’s holy he really does smell like apple pie. I had to know if he tasted like it, too.

He bent down…

But he didn’t stop at my lips where he was supposed to.

And you know, I could’ve forgiven him if he’d gone for the cleavage. I mean, he’d spent all of our dates looking into my eyes when I spoke. He listened to me. If he wanted to dive into my sweater kittens, I’d let him. Hell, he could pet them and whisper sweet nothings to them if he wanted. Actually… wait, back on track. *cough*

But no.

Do you know what this jackass does? (Yes, I called the All-American Boy Next Door Hero a jackass.) He drops to one knee.

And he offers me an open box with a plain gold band.

Let me stop you there. If you think I’m mad because it’s a plain gold band, I shouldn’t even be telling you this story because you don’t know me at all.

“It was my mother’s,” he said. “She would’ve loved you and not just because I love you. Because you’re funny, kind, generous… fearless. Everything I could ever want in a woman. Spend the rest of your life with me, Darcy. Marry me.”

He was so earnest. A perfect proposal, really. For a girl who wanted it.

I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I felt cornered. When I reached for the taser, it wasn’t really a conscious decision.

Neither was shooting him full of fifty thousand volts.

After his body stopped twitching, he mumbled, “That’s a no?”

 

**Icing on the Cake**

Everyone at the Tower knew about The Incident as I’d come to call it.

So did the press. Apparently, some enterprising asshole caught it all on his smartphone and uploaded it to YouTube. Hate mail for me was already flooding in, as well as letters from women offering themselves as Steve’s consolation prize. Men, too. Everybody wanted a piece of Captain America. And who could blame them? He was perfect.

Just not perfect for me, I guess.

I didn’t want to get married. Not yet.

And holy shit, really? He hadn’t even kissed me. Maybe we weren’t compatible in bed. Attraction doesn’t guarantee we’d be into the same things. Or even… I mean, he’s a virgin. The scientists had wanted to test that aspect, but he’d said that was one thing he wasn’t willing to sacrifice for his country. His faith. And the country he believed in wouldn’t ask him to. So they’d stood down on that.

I seriously can’t imagine seeing everything he’s seen and still believing in a higher power. Or not getting laid. I mean, if God loves you, doesn’t he want you to be happy? And eternity is a long time to go without sex.

I’d die. I’d actually die.

Jesus, could you imagine the hate mail I’d get if I did marry Steve and divorced him? There’d be nowhere in the world for me to hide. Packs of rabid girls would hunt me down and light me on fire before devouring my flaming body parts.

I knew I had to talk to him. He didn’t deserve my silence. I’d been woman enough to shoot him with fifty-thousand volts, the least I could do was talk to him about it. And that was the shit of it, I knew he would still _want_ to talk to me.

No modern guy would. That would be it. I’d find myself blocked on every social media platform except Instagram, so he could “scroll and judge” and that would be it.

Maybe we could come to some sort of compromise.

When Clint passed me in the hall to the archives, he laughed so hard I thought he was going to break something. I was pretty sure he’d pissed himself laughing and didn’t care. He kept cackling.

“Not funny,” I growled.

He wheezed. “He professed his love and you fried him.” More cackling ensued. “Have you watched the video? You’ve gotta see it before Tony scrubs it from the ‘net forever.”

“I don’t need to see it, jackwagon. I was there.”

“No, no… but look of horror on your face.” Clint started wheezing again.

“You sound like you’ve got pneumonia. Shut up.”

“Worth it.”

I sighed and continued down to the archives where I could hide—err, be useful. I had to pull a bunch of files for Jane.

She, thankfully, had said nothing, except if I wanted to talk about it, we could. Or if not, that was fine, too. One appreciates that in a best friend and boss. Although, I was sure Thor would be making an appearance. Maybe he could explain to me just what the hell Steve was thinking? Or how to explain my position to him.

Nat was grabbing some files as well and I held my breath, waiting for her to have some commentary on what had happened, but she didn’t. She didn’t even flash me one of those pity girl-bonding glances. I adored her even more.

I managed to make it through the rest of the day without dealing with any part of The Incident.

Until I got back to my apartment and found a note on my door in Steve’s handwriting.

_“I’m inside. Don’t shoot.”_ There was a happy face drawn beside it.

I suppose I had that coming and no matter what happened between us from now until forever, even if we decided not to see each other, he’d still tease me about this. Until I died. I bet I’d be on my death bed, he’d be holding my hand and we’d look into each other’s eyes, and he’d probably say something about not tazing St. Peter at the Gates of Heaven. See? He’s not perfect.

Okay, he kind of is.

I opened the door and there was a giant potted hydrangea on the coffee table. I’d probably murder it because I had a black thumb, but hydrangeas were my favorite flower. No passé roses from Steve Rogers. He went straight for my favorite.

And he had a pizza.

For some stupid reason, I started crying.

He didn’t tell me not to cry. I hated that when people did that. I wouldn’t be crying if I didn’t have a reason to cry. (Kind of like when my mother would tell me, rather often, to stop crying or she’d give me something to cry about.) He just said, “Come here.”

And I did.

I curled against him and cried while stuffing my face with that pepperoni pizza and alternately sniffing my purple hydrangea. When I finally stopped blubbering, I said, “I’m probably going to kill it, you know.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. It’s a new strain I’ve had them working on in the lab just for you. It’s pretty hearty.”

He’d had them genetically alter a flower that could withstand me? I don’t know why, but it made me cry all over again, but I swallowed my tears. This wasn’t just about me.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, I startled you. I could’ve handled it better. It was just a little electricity.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head.

It would’ve been easy to just lean into him. To let him keep petting me. But it wasn’t what was right. We had to talk about this.

“Yeah, you did startle me. You’d have startled any modern woman. We barely know each other.”

He leaned away from me so that we were looking each other in the eyes. “I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Oh really? We’ve only been on three dates.”

“Whatever. I still know you.”

“Prove it.”

“Hydrangeas are your favorite flower, your favorite color is purple, you don’t like to be startled, you’re sarcastic, but it hides your really gentle heart.”

I rolled my eyes. “Memorizing the right things to say doesn’t mean you know me.”

“No, I don’t know your life story. And those stories are important because it’s how you became who you are, but I saw you put yourself between that kid and a bullet that day in the Square. I’ve seen you give all the money in your wallet to a homeless family. And even half of the sandwich in your hand and I know what a sacrifice that is for you.” He grinned. “And I know that every time I see you, I remember how good the world can be. When you smile at me, I know you see me for who I am underneath the uniform.” He held up his hand again. “Besides being ‘muscle-y.’ Most importantly, you make me want to be worthy of that uniform.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest. Almost like a bullet wound. “Just because we’re good people doesn’t mean we belong together or that we should make that decision after three dates.”

“What about after a hundred?”

“Not if we haven’t gone to bed.”

“What? Why not?”

“Attraction, affection, even love can happen outside the bedroom, I know that. But what if we’re not compatible in the bedroom.”

“If we love each other and want to make each other feel good, why wouldn’t we be?”

His earnest sincerity could’ve been mistaken for naiveté. But I wanted to believe him.

“Because what if it turns me on to see you dancing in a tutu with a fox tail butt plug?”

He arched a brow and I could see his brain chewing on my proposal. “I… well, I have to say that honestly doesn’t appeal to me. But if you want me to do it, I’ll try it.”

I laughed. “Oh, you’ve given me some power.”

“Not quite. Not without a ring and a vow.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What if you decide you want me to tie you up and spank your ass and call you bad names and I don’t want to. Then what?”

“I can’t see how that would appeal to me, either. Thor maybe, but not me.” He grinned again. “But if you didn’t want to, I’d just have to deal with it, right? Isn’t that how it works? I don’t understand the big deal.”

“And I’m not explaining it well, I guess.”

“You’re not ready for marriage. I can wait.”

“I…” I didn’t know what else to say, so I ended up blurting, “You haven’t even kissed me.”

“Because I know once I start, I won’t want to stop.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Well, yes. But I’m Catholic. I made a vow to God, myself, and my future wife.”

“You know, a lot of Catholics sin. A lot. Then they do their penance and they’re forgiven. So we could go sin right now and—”

His laugh cut me off. “Yes, God can forgive me. I can forgive me. But if we don’t end up together, you can’t give back what you’ve taken from the future Mrs. Rogers, can you?”

I guessed he had a point. “Well, I’m not a virgin. Not by a long shot. And I really hope you don’t expect your future wife to be because that’s really demeaning.”

“No, I don’t expect you to be. Obviously. But why would it be demeaning?”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “Because it distills our worth as human beings down to what’s between our legs.”

“I… no. Of course not.”

“And that’s something else, Steve. You’re Catholic. Have you asked me about my faith? You proposed, but what if I don’t want a church wedding? What if I’m an atheist?”

His jaw hardened. “You’re not.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I can’t buy into a book that uses faith to keep control of women and their bodies. Or that tells us we’re bad and evil because we shed the linings of our uterus once a month.”

“Really? You’re an atheist?” It was almost like I’d said I wanted him to eat a spoonful of crap from the tone of his voice.

“No. Not exactly. But I’m not Catholic. And just like you’re not willing to compromise on your faith, I’m not willing to compromise on mine.”

“Fine. No church wedding. Outside, on a beach somewhere. Under the arch of trees older than me…”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe. But you’re going to say yes.”

“I won’t even entertain it until you kiss me.”

“If I kiss you, you’ll entertain it?”

Before I knew what he was doing, he’d pulled me into his lap. In a way that shouldn’t be mentioned on the same page as godliness. It was, in short, ungodly.

I shouldn’t actually say short.

I was straddling his lap and there was nothing short about it.

In fact, I almost understood why he wanted to put a ring on it first. It was a beast. But oh, it felt so good.

He kissed me and my brain melted out of my ears. If he’d asked me then, I’d have agreed to anything he wanted just to keep him kissing me.

Unfortunately, I forgot about the taser in my back pocket and so did he. When his hands slid down to my ass, something he did or maybe it was a faulty unit, anyway, I got my fifty-thousand volts right back into my own ass. 

 

**Love At First Tase**

When I woke up sometime later to a concerned Steve leaning over me in my bed, I wondered briefly if it had actually been an accident.

The more devious part of my brain was sure he’d done it on purpose to keep me from using my extensive wiles on his poor virgin bod.

Yet, he seemed so sincere.

But that’s when I knew I was actually screwed, and not even in the orgasm kind of way. Looking at him leaning over me, the concern on his face, the familiarity of his dear features, I wanted to see that face every day I woke up.

If he wanted me to tie him up, spank him, or he wanted me to dress like a drag king and do the hula, I’d do it. He was right. All I wanted was him. Was this life he’d promised me. I pressed my lips together, unsure of what to say. Words weren’t actually my strong suit. Not when I had to say them out loud. I mean, it sort of ruined it if I said, “You wanna get back on that ring action, Captain Muscle-y?” Not so much.

“Get in this bed with me.”

“I think we both know I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just hold me and tell me about how wonderful I am again.”

“I don’t know, Darce. I start telling you that you’re great and then I want to ask questions and questions lead to pain.”

“Living is pain, Cap. But it’s also really damn beautiful. So sac up.”

“Sac up is pretty crude.” He slid into the bed, taking me into his arms.

“It is crude, but there is a part of you that likes it.” I squirmed against him. “A big part.”

“Maybe a little.” His breath was warm against my ear.

Yeah, I was pretty sure I’d do anything to keep this feeling.

His hand slid up my body until he took my hand and I felt something cool and metallic slide onto my finger.

“You’re a brave man.”

“I am Captain America,” he said. “It’s my job to be brave.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you, Darcy. I told you that.”

“I guess maybe you do.” I bit my lip. “If you know me so well, where do I want to go for our honeymoon?”

“You want to rent a bungalow in Bonaire and you’ll say we’re going to go sailing, and diving, and maybe even fishing, but really, we’re going to spend our time drinking champagne and testing out every super serum question you have about my carnal abilities.”

“Damn it. Well, maybe I didn’t want Bonaire. Maybe I want—”

“—Bora Bora. A bungalow on the water. And now that you think about it, you want to get married there, too.”

I grumbled, but really, why was I complaining? I had the best man in the world who really saw me, who really listened to me, and he loved me anyway.

“I didn’t actually say yes.”

“I didn’t actually ask again.”

And the scent of singed body hair would forever be the most romantic smell because it would conjure memories of that time he didn’t propose because it was already perfect, volts and all. 


End file.
